


A Shocking Lack of Decorum

by GoodOldBaz



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Not Serious, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodOldBaz/pseuds/GoodOldBaz
Summary: Watson discovers Holmes is ticklish. Pure fluff.





	A Shocking Lack of Decorum

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Шокирующее отсутствие этикета](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312383) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



I winced as I pulled Holmes’ shirt back from his side. It was quite a bruise, but thankfully I knew it would heal in time. I took some cream from my bag and began to slather it onto the bruise. An odd sound escaped from my friend’s lips, and I glanced up at him in surprise.   
"For heaven's sake, Watson," he hissed wearily. "Watch where you poke and prod those cold fingers of yours!"  
"Of course, Holmes," I said slowly as I switched creams and began to slather again. As my fingers touched him he let out something akin to a squeal and wiggled out of my reach. "Holmes!" I cried, entirely unsure of what was going on. "I know it must hurt, but how can I help you if I can't touch you? Now hold still!" Again I lowered my fingers and ran a glob of cream down his side. "Steady old chap," I said as I saw his muscles flinch at my touch. It was then, at the almost childlike sound from my companion, that I realized what was happening. Could it be, could it possibly be, that Sherlock Holmes, that my Holmes, he who seemed alarmed by little, he who seemed almost always mentally and physically in control, could be ticklish? The thought struck me as being inconceivably funny, and, even in the light of Holmes injury, I could think of nothing I'd like to do better than exploit my friends newly found weakness. I felt like a wicked schoolboy as I planned my attack.  
"Only a bit more, Holmes," I said, "And then I shall be done."  
"Saint's be praised," he scowled, tossing his head.  
I took the third bottle of ointment and poured some into my hand. I began to rub the ointment into his wound and then, with a twinkle in my eye, thrust my fingers across his tout stomach. He let out a yell and sat up in his bed, staring at me wide eyed and open mouthed.  
"What in heaven's name, Watson!?" he cried, flushed.  
But I paid no heed to his comment and took quick advantage of his defenseless position, thrusting out my fingers again.  
"Are you drunk!?" he gasped, covering his bare sides and stomach with his wiry arms.  
"I was never more sober in my life!" I laughed as I tickled him again. This time the shock left his features, as he suddenly realized my game, and a small grin played about his lips. I knew the war had begun. He jumped out of bed and sprinted after me, but I had gotten a head start and was in the sitting room before he reached me. We were suddenly at a stalemate, I on one side of the sofa, and he on the other.  
"You can't win, Holmes," I said, "I'm not ticklish." And with that I ran round the sofa at him. But he stood his ground and grabbed my arms. He was strong, but I had more bulk and I had him down on the sofa giggling like a school girl in a moment.  
"For heaven's sake, stop it, Watson," he gasped. "Or I'll call for Mrs. Hudson!"  
I pulled back quickly from him and collapsed into a fit of laughter, falling back into an armchair. Holmes sat up, laughter's tears in his eyes, and tried his best to collect what little dignity he had left by smoothing out his ruffled hair and pulling his dressing gown over his bare skin and quivering muscles.  
"We are such little children," I said as I wiped tears from my eyes.  
"If only my competitors could have seen that," Holmes said good-naturedly. "Then they would have gotten that long awaited evidence that I am – we are – complete lunatics."  
“Sometimes I think we might be, Holmes," I smiled.  
"Perhaps so," he chuckled. "Perhaps so. Ah, Watson,” he said, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head, “What a shocking lack of decorum we possess."


End file.
